MURDER BY LAMPLIGHT

An unusually violent and methodical killer terrorizes 1866 London in McDonough’s debut.

D.I. Richard Tennant has just received evidence that Franz Meyer, a tailor hanged two years ago, may not have been the Railway Murderer after all, and he’s in no mood for another round of serial homicide. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the murder of Rev. Tobias Atwater, found dead and castrated inside a sewer pipe, kicks off. As if he and his sergeant, Jonathan Graves, hadn’t troubles enough, Dr. Andrew Lewis, the doctor he’d asked to examine the body, has been laid low by heart disease and has sent his granddaughter instead. Julia Lewis is a fully qualified physician, but she took her medical degree in far-off Philadelphia, and she’s a female who has no business climbing around filthy places examining corpses. Predictably, Julia turns out to be filled with a wide range of progressive attitudes that would make her right at home in the 21st century, and predictably, her sparring with Tennant gradually develops into something more complicated, even though Julia tells her aristocratic great-aunt that “marriage with him would not be a companionable union of equals.” But McDonough keeps the pace brisk as the body count rises, each corpse physically violated, each discovered with a balloon, amid a series of increasingly disturbing revelations about the calamitous effects of the cholera outbreak that began back in 1832 and has returned repeatedly with a vengeance—just like the malefactor whom cheeky Illustrated London News reporter Johnny Osborne prematurely dubs “the music-hall murderer.”

The spree of period murders, capped by a welcome surprise, provides the perfect backdrop for debates about gender politics.